deepundergroundpoetry.com
Foretelling
Darkness looms on the horizon,
Gloomy and growing closer.
The winds of The End draw near,
Bringing sour and repulsive haunts.
Daylight fades into the clouds,
Birds and fish alike do flee.
Do not expect for to find joy,
This day may be the last.
Finding a rest, untold glory,
Sipping from streams of ecstasy.
At last, the moon is setting,
Yet dear Sol is naught to rise.
Gloomy and growing closer.
The winds of The End draw near,
Bringing sour and repulsive haunts.
Daylight fades into the clouds,
Birds and fish alike do flee.
Do not expect for to find joy,
This day may be the last.
Finding a rest, untold glory,
Sipping from streams of ecstasy.
At last, the moon is setting,
Yet dear Sol is naught to rise.
Published 1st Jul 2024
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